Dr Xenophilius and the Mary Sue Challenge
by gryffinsdoor
Summary: Can Lord Voldemort learn the secret to Harry Potter's resilience, or the secret that's not in his head? If it's a Mary Sue, you know this one will end with a bang! SIYE Mary Sue Challenge, DH crackfic, blazing cliche's galore
1. Tell Me Something Good

_A/N: Reading this first chapter is not required to enjoy the real story, which begins next chapter. It merely provides a background prologue that will probably make more sense after reading the story, and yes, that was intentional. My mind works in strange ways sometimes, and I make no apologies._

_This is a work of friction. The rough spots can get really heated._

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o

It was late June and I was starting to panic; I only had a few more days and my brain seemed to be full of sludge. I grabbed my notebook and headed outside for some fresh air, hoping a long walk would flush some fresh ideas.

It was a beautiful afternoon, but a little too warm to be in the sunshine. I was drawn by some inexplicable force into the cool of the forest, where I eventually picked up an old trail of sorts. I crept warily ahead, eyes and ears attuned to the slightest disturbance. I really shouldn't be here alone, I reminded myself, yet my feet continued down the trail as if I had no control over them.

A clearing opened before me, and I was awash in the sensation of familiarity, though I had never before been this far into the forest. Something had happened here, something important, but the memory was just out of reach.

I sat upon a large rock at the edge of the clearing and removed my shoes. My toes wriggled with delight into the deliciously deep rich loamy soil. My right foot slid across a smooth pebble and I rubbed it mindlessly as I considered my current dilemma.

I need an expert, I thought.

Then a ghostly apparition formed in front of me, and I almost jumped away before I realized that he appeared just as terrified as I, grabbing his nightshirt to him and spinning around wildly.

"What the. . . where. . . You!" he cried, finally laying eyes on me. "What the bloody hell just happened?"

As he spoke, my jaw fell open. Not only did I recognize him, but I recognized by the tingling in my foot how he had come to be here.

I had called him.

"Sorry about that, sir, I didn't realize this would happen."

"And what exactly is. . . _this_?"

"I'm not really allowed to say, but since you've already... erm... passed, I suppose there's no harm in it. It's kind of complicated, but to put it simply, you were brought here by magic."

He stared dumbfounded at me, then began chuckling, before resuming a frown.

"Don't tell me, that ball game played on flying broomsticks – kickwitch or something – "

"You mean quidditch?"

"That's it! It's real?"

"Afraid so."

"Damn," he muttered. "This is going to cost me fifty quals."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Oh, nothing, just the way we keep track on the other side. We don't have real money, so we use a sort of credit system. Embarrassing to be in the red, you know."

"Erm. . . I can imagine."

"Now, where are we and why is it I am here? I was interrupted in a most inopportune moment, just as I was making my move on this lovely Swedish model – reminded me of my second wife in her prime, good times – "

"Sir," I interrupted, not needing to hear all the colorful details, "we're in Scotland, and you were brought here to help me write a story."

"Sorry? I'm an actor, not a writer."

"Ah, but you have a talent for humor and you were selected by magic itself as the expert that I required. This story is for a Mary Sue Challenge, specifically a parody of clichés prevalent in Harry Potter fanfiction."

He gaped at me, puzzled. "Right, I got parody, but the rest of that went sailing quite over my head."

I spent the next half hour telling the story of the boy prophesied before birth to challenge the darkest wizard of recent memory, and his hero's journey that enthralled readers and movie-goers ever since it became public. Of course, non-magical folks consider it fantasy fiction, a comment that he greeted with much skepticism, being non-magical himself.

Following that, I explained how amateur writers love to write stories using characters and settings created by others, and the sterotyped "Mary Sue" – an overly idealized and under-developed original character, which he recognized immediately.

"They aren't unique to amateur writers, I can assure you of that! I believe I've played a few of those myself – in the masculine form, of course."

We shared a laugh and I explained the story challenge at the "Sink Into Your Eyes" website (another round of explanations on personal computers, the World Wide Web, and how 'siye dot co dot uk' is the address of said site), which gave participants a number of typical stereotypes that we were to play upon, and ways to manipulate them to achieve bonus points.

"They weren't fussed about plot, except that it had to relate to the title, which had to be one off their list. I chose number thirty here."

"Stanley is probably turning in his grave right now," he guffawed. "Who is this Dr. Xenophilius, and do I want to know what is meant by 'AK'?"

I supplied the necessary details. "I hope you don't mind starring in a few roles in this story as well. After all, you were three different characters in the original film."

"Yes, well, it was supposed to be four, but I had that accident before I could get the Texas accent perfected. Always regretted that, you know. At least that Pickens fellow did a marvelous job, riding the bomb with aplomb," he chuckled. "Do I get to play a Texan in your story?"

"Erm, I had thought about an American vampire hunter from Phoenix named Eddie Von Hellion that would show up for the final battle, but I haven't written anything for him yet."

"Phoenix is close to Texas, isn't it?"

"In the same sense that Paris is close to Poland, I suppose."

"Oh, right."

"I should also mention that author J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and his universe in the non-magical world, and since I don't, I'm not allowed to make any money from this."

"So why do it, other than for the fun of it?"

"There is that, but we all hope readers will send us loads of reviews saying how wonderfully creative and hilarious our story is."

"Ego trip, then?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Right, then. Let's see what you've got so far."

"I actually wrote the ending first. I proposed some cataclysmic event like your film had where I could get the bonus points mentioned here with the title, but I also needed a couple of post-event scenes for the final chapter."

He read my draft. "This fellow here is supposed to be you?"

"Self-insertion is item 2-a. Including Sovran, who is another fanfiction author, is worth a bonus. The other character is item 2-i, and qualifies for the bonus as well."

"A lot of this looks familiar. . . Do you write any of these gags yourself?"

"Not really. . . I mostly rip off stuff from films and things I've seen on the tellie, but it's okay because it's parody. . . fair use and all that."

"Hmm. . ." he said as he finished, "what a way to treat your hero. . . I doubt that it will generate loads of adoration for you."

"I know, people will think me sadistically cruel, and hey, maybe they're right. You must understand that tormenting him is another fanfiction cliché, in addition it fulfills item 2-b and the bonus. It's a nasty 'gotcha' sort of twist, not to mention a spoof on another film."

"Yes, I thought so. I noticed you changed the wording for the bonus."

"I had to. Besides, I'm a Gryffindor – to us, rules are more guidelines than absolutes."

After fine-tuning the ending, we went back to the beginning.

"What's this about an Evil Overlord List?"

"Someone published a long list of items where traditional egomaniacal world dominator wanna-be's will typically be doomed to failure. Item 4 requires that we break some of these rules."

"Ah, but what if your Evil Overlord is actually smart enough to find and use this list himself?"

"Ooh, I can use that!"

"Even if it's the opposite usage of that prescribed in the rules?"

"I told you already - I'm a Gryffindor!"

And so we reworked the beginning and middle scenes, and got to the most difficult part – the final battle.

"Dr. Xenophilius has a daughter named Luna, who does play-by-plays for Quidditch matches – I think she would be great saying things like 'And that's Bellatrix Lestrange singing the Loser's Lurgy,' don't you?"

We were tossing silly ideas back and forth like a quaffle, when – without any warning whatsoever – there was a blinding flash, then absolute total darkness, and I knew no more.

o o o

_It seemed only a moment before the quiet clearing reappeared in the ancient forest. All evidence of recent human activity had vanished, except for one thing – near the edge of the clearing was a low rock, and upon it rest a notebook full of hasty scribbles. On its cover appeared the following words:_

**Dr Xenophilius: or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The AK**

o


	2. Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

_**Summary: **__"Why won't you DIE?" Can Lord Voldemort discover the secret to Harry Potter's resilience? Or the other secret that's not in his head? How did Sirius manage to drive back through the veil? Is Ginny really stuck on Harry? How far will Mr. Lovegood go to save his daughter?  
Only one thing is certain, this one will end with a bang . . ._

_SIYE Mary Sue Challenge_

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* * *

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**Dr Xenophilius: or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The AK**

o

**Breaking Up Is Hard To Do**

o  
o  
o

**A classic insightful quote pertaining to some element of the story would look real spiffing here.  
**- _Anonymous_

o

It was a bright sunshine drenched morn full of life's blossoming in the forests and fields of Wiltshire – colorful angiosperm buds bursting in invitation, bees rubbing their bulbous bodies against pollen-laden stamen while plumbing the nectar-filled recesses, birds twittering and singing fancifully between regurgitations into the eager mouths of their nestlings, graceful does preening themselves in preparation for stag night – in short, life was reveling in spring's rebirth party.

However, behind a withered hedgerow was a forgotten meadow where no songs were heard, no twittering was allowed, and hope was sucked dry from any who had the misfortune to venture there, for this was the home of a wizard who had allowed darkness to seep into the manor and ooze onto the grounds, and the cold gray dripping sky forever blocked the sun.

It was to this dreary damp domicile that Harry Potter and his two most trusted and faithful companions had been taken after being captured, and although Harry's true identity had yet to be discovered, he knew he was in deep dark dangerous dung. His captors would eventually see through his disfiguring jinxes and call for their master, Lord Voldemort, rejoicing in their bagging of the Boy Who Lived. What he needed right now was a miracle.

"Draco, isn't this the girl who was traveling with Potter?" manor mistress Narcissa Malfoy said to her son, leaning over the suspect. "Tell me! Surely you recognize her!"

Clearly wanting to be anywhere else, the young Malfoy hesitated, and the girl in question saw her chance. Narcissa's wand was held carelessly within easy reach, and Hermione Granger, smartest student witch in Hogwarts history, easily snatched it and thrust it to her own neck.

"Nobody move or the Mudblood gets it!" she screamed frantically.

Everyone froze in shock. Harry was the first to recover, having seen that particular silly movie on Muggle television years before, and he grabbed Draco's wand and began firing spells.

"_Stupefy! Stupefy!_" he spat. "Hermione, take Ron and GO!"

Hermione nodded, quickly Disapparating with the dumbfounded but appreciative redheaded boy.

Harry was not so fortunate.

"That's Potter! I recognize his voice!"

Anti-apparition wards materialized before Harry could escape, and his shield could not withstand the hailstorm of curses directed his way. There was a brief moment of indescribable pain before blackness overcame him.

o o o

"Why won't you DIE?" shouted Lord Voldemort irritably. Once he had invaded Potter's mind and side-stepped the boy's pathetic defenses, he had been quickly able to determine that Albus Bloody Meddling Dumbledore had taught the boy much more than he could have ever anticipated. Thankfully the Dark Lord still had three of his original six Horcruxes, and thus his immortality remained. Harry Potter should not be able to demonstrate that same luxury, but merciless tortures, random dismemberments and other means of bodily harm had proven fruitless at snuffing him completely. He had tried everything but the killing curse itself, _Avada Kedavra_, because the sodding prophecy and his own experience told him that it could easily backfire on him.

"Face it," grunted the disembodied head on the floor, "I'm the Boy Who Lived. Get used to it."

There was some very unusual and powerful magic at work here and Lord Voldemort was stumped. He would have to call in an expert.

o o o

"Having an unmentionable name is way cool, good for terrorizing the masses and all, just make sure they stay depressed and scared, or even keep them happy, but never get them angry. The list says angry people are the ones who overthrow their Evil Overlords."

Lord Voldemort studied the parchment. "The list also says that my advisor should be an average five-year-old child."

"C'mon, your Lord Darkness sir, five-year-olds can't read the list. I'm only eight, so that makes me just as good. Besides, the list isn't perfect. It's like, you followed the rule about going after the baby Harry yourself and we all know how that worked out. In fact, I think if you wanna be an Evil Overlord and your destiny includes an infant prophecy, you may as well turn in your CV's for another line of work, 'cause history says you're toast."

Lord Voldemort was seething inside, but decided to humor this upstart a little while longer. "So now you are not just the expert, you know more than the creators of this . . . list."

"Yup. I can see the obvious and I know stuff too. Like, I didn't know what conjugal visits were . . ."

The Dark Lord and his followers looked at each other in a brief moment of panic.

"I thought maybe they had something to do with verbs, but my cousin Pansy showed me when Draco came over and they forgot those privacy charms, I figured it out."

Sniggering was heard around the table, and Draco again seemed to wish he was anywhere else as his mother glared daggers at him.

"But the most important thing right now is to work on those dreadful outfits your Dead Diner Dudes are wearing. The list says masks and robes are simply no good at all. . ."

"No," Voldemort interrupted, "our first priority is ensuring that Potter does not escape."

"Escape?" Lucius Malfoy queried. "He is spread between dungeon cells A, C, D, F and H, where his head resides. He can't get himself together, much less make his way out."

"Nevertheless, his friends will stop at nothing to collect him. They apparently know that he is the only one who can bring about my defeat. No, we must review our security and ensure that they cannot possibly get in."

"You've got the standard travel methods blocked?" asked the child advisor. "Apparition, Portkeys, Floo? What about non-magic entrances? Vents, chimneys, doors and windows? Any underground passages, like sewer pipes? What about your water system?"

They carefully studied each possibility and corrected any deficiencies they discovered. Meanwhile, tea was served by an ancient house elf with a hunchback, dragging her left foot.

"Just leave it, Eisor," Lucius ordered. "We are quite busy at the moment."

Voldemort looked questioningly at the old elf. "Lucius, whatever became of that annoying little elf you used to keep around?"

"My Lord," Lucius intoned hesitantly, "Potter had the audacity to free him several years ago. He dotes on the creature."

"You are getting forgetful, Lucius. That is a potential weakness. Your property should be warded to prevent passage by any elf, in or out."

"Eisor will take care of it," the old elf rasped. "Dobby was a bad elf, always talking above his station, forgetting his place. Yes, Master, Eisor will keep him out."

o o o

Harry Potter was almost grateful that he had no more feeling in his body, wherever they had stashed it. He had been subjected to pain beyond pain, agony beyond agony, and so on and so forth, until he really had wished they would just be done with it. After all, he had been particularly attached to most of those bits they so rudely removed. He supposed he was teetering on the edge of delirium, because he had some very unusual dreams of late. One even had Dumbledore joining him on some adventure, complaining about how he'd mistreated his sister and about the lack of decent sweets on the train. There had been a noise on the upper shelf in their compartment that sounded like a budgie in a box, but he never got a chance to investigate.

He had no idea how he was still alive or what would become of him. Other than spitting contests with the rats, there was nothing he could do for himself. He started to drift away into another bout of slumber when he was blinded by a flash of light . . . the light of several sunlit days, which he swore he had seen somewhere before . . . he felt suddenly weightless and then he knew no more.

o o o

"So we've taken care of all avenues to get to Potter. There is no possible way to reach him now."

There was a scuffle outside their sitting room. The door opened and one of Voldemort's most ruthless Death Eaters rushed in breathlessly.

"It's Peter Sellers!" cried the young boy. "I loved your Pink Panther films – they were the bomb!"

"His name is not Sellers," grumbled Voldemort, "it is Dolohov, he abhors pink, and his stupid Russian accent is real. What is it, Antonin?"

"My Lord, something happened in Potter's cells. There was a bright flash of light in each one, and . . . he's disappeared."

"All of him? And you saw _nothing_?"

"I . . . couldn't be sure . . . I thought I saw a big bird with gold and red feathers."

"NO!" Voldemort hissed, enraged. He pulled his wand, but the young advisor reminded not to curse the messenger – it was on the list, after all – so instead he screamed a horrific earth-shaking scream that released a wave of magical frustration into the surrounding countryside. Farmers later claimed that aliens had landed in their fields, but experts in ancient runic languages translated the patterns to be random lyrics from _Bohemian Rhapsody_.

"Antonin, go to the Ministry and inform the undersecretary that her Undesirable Number One is back on the Wanted list."

"What happened, my Lord?"

Voldemort hung his head. "I forgot the damn phoenix _again_."

o


	3. Come Together

_This chapter carries a warning for gratuitous disturbing imagery. Reader discretion and a sick bag are advised, unless you actually enjoy that sort of thing, in which case there is a ward at St Mungo's for you. I know, because I currently am strapped into the second bed on the left._

* * *

**Come Together**

o  
o  
o

"What did your father do for a living?"

The squat woman's high poisoned-honey voice was in stark contrast to her toad-like appearance as she glowered from the high bench. Her victim was a mousy middle-age witch, shivering uncontrollably under the chilling glare of a half dozen dementors, feasting on her despair.

"He was a p-plumber, M-madam Undersecretary."

"Of course he would be . . . how easy to infiltrate the unprotected homes of innocent wizards and witches through the pipes, a back-door entry, yes . . . able the penetrate their unsuspecting orifices and sap the very essence of magic from their bodily fluids, illegally harvesting it for your use, or perhaps even resale on the mud market without proper permits or taxation, leaving behind a trail of contamination and waste, pollution of their minds and souls . . ."

"No! That . . . it's impossible! We would never _dream_ . . ."

"You are a sick individual. I hereby sentence you to the dementor's kiss, to be carried out immediately."

The undersecretary gave a nod to the nearest dementor, and the victim's screaming protestations were soon silenced as the wraith-like creature performed its horrifying act of forcibly slurping up the life force of the innocent woman, afterward licking what may have been its lips, had anyone actually gotten close enough to see under its ghastly hood to determine if dementors had that sort of thing with which to kiss.

"Ah," the undersecretary smiled in obvious pleasure, "I do so enjoy a good soul removal. Antonin! How good to see you this morning. Do you like my pussy?"

The Death Eater was taken aback. "I beg your pardon, Madame Umbridge?"

"It warms to the thrill of the dispensation of justice, don't you think?" She indicated her glowing silver cat patronus that patrolled the front of the bench.

"Er . . . yes, I suppose so . . ."

"Did you need something? We have lots of cases to sort today, and torment waits for no wizard."

"Yes, the Dark Lord has a message for Minister Thicknesse . . ."

"Ah, yes, my desirable number one," she said, sighing. "Did you know why they call him Thicknesse, Antonin? I do try to perform my duties as undersecretary with the utmost dedication, you know . . ."

Dolohov did not know, and he didn't want to find out. He just wanted to deliver his message and get back to the Dark Lord where the only torture was merely pain . . . it would be a relief.

o o o

Harry Potter once again felt pain beyond pain, agony beyond agony, and it truly felt good, because if it hurt, it meant that there was probably something there. Fortunately, he didn't know about the "phantom limb" effect, and it did not matter anyway, because as he slowly regained consciousness, he could actually _stir_.

"Harry, you're awake!"

"Water," he gasped.

Hermione quickly got him a glass, and the cool liquid almost choked him, and it was a wonderful sensation.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, like I was Frankenstein's monster. What happened? How . . . ?"

"Oh, Harry, you were such a mess when Ginny brought you back – "

"Wait, did you say Ginny?"

"Yes, she's amazing, Harry! We've all been training to become animagi ever since Sirius returned, and she took to it right away, very motivated I'd say, and the first ever magical creature – "

"Hold on – Sirius is alive?"

"Yes, Harry! So much has happened since we left you . . . I'm so sorry we didn't wait for you . . ."

"It's okay, Hermione, I told you to leave, remember? How's Ron?"

"Ron, well . . . he's gone dark."

"No! Ron would never do that!"

"Yes, he has. Here he comes – see for yourself."

Harry turned to stare in shock as his best mate entered the oversize bedroom. Ron had indeed gone dark, darker than all of Ginny's old boyfriends, except for his hair that was still Weasley red, giving him the appearance of an orange-frosted chocolate biscuit.

"Ron – what the . . . bloody hell!"

"Hey, mate! Good to see you back among the living and in one piece! How do you like my new look? It was a tanning spell, but it turned out a bit strong. It's supposed to fade eventually."

"You didn't get that spell from the twins, by any chance?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

"He's just trying to impress that girl Sirius brought back with him," Hermione huffed. "It's pathetic, really."

"Ron, why would you be trying to impress Sirius' girlfriend?"

"Spacey Stacey's not his girlfriend, mate. She's nearly our age . . . we think."

"Ron, we don't really know anything about her, not even her real name. She only speaks in nonsense verse, so she's almost impossible to talk to. And the way she dresses . . . she must accessorize at pet shops and the D.I.Y."

"You don't say anything about the way Tonks dresses."

"Tonks is practically Victorian next to her! And those moving tattoos! I couldn't believe what that Sphinx was doing – not that either of you will ever see it. Harry, your godfather found this anonymous Jane in . . . wherever he was, and brought her back, no questions asked, only because she wouldn't take no for an answer. It was very irresponsible of him."

"Responsible people are the ones who get punished, you know."

Harry turned toward the voice that he thought he would never hear again.

"Sirius!" Harry jumped from the bed and gave his godfather a hug that would make Mrs. Weasley proud.

"Hey, kiddo," he laughed. "Watch the seams there – you're pretty fresh still."

"Hermione said . . . I couldn't believe . . . how did you make it back through the veil?"

"Great question. It seems the arch works as a portal through the space/time continuum. I found myself several years in the future in a place called Hill Valley. Stupid name, I know, but it was a stroke of luck for me because there was a crackpot Muggle scientist there who makes time machines. I bought one from him – a 2009 Chevy Corvette convertible, black of course – and came back in it. When I showed up in the Department of Ministries driving out of the arch, the Unspeakables were speechless."

"Aww, I had always wanted to say that," whinged Fred Weasley, who had just entered along with his twin brother George.

"So what's it like in the future?" asked Harry.

"Some things are very strange," Sirius said thoughtfully. "People kept calling me Gary and asking me if I was in the new movie, something they called _Half-Blood Prince_."

Hermione shared a look with Ron and Harry. "You surely don't suppose . . . ?"

"A film about Snape?" wondered Ron. "What d'you reckon?"

"I reckon the future looks pretty bad if that's true," said Harry. "And Muggles making time machines? 2009 is only a dozen years away."

"This scientist bloke was quite the nutter, but a good chap, really. Seems he developed the prototype a few years ago, but made improvements gradually as he hopped back and forth in time. His fusion reactor won't be developed for decades yet."

"Your car," gasped Hermione, "runs on nuclear fusion?"

"Sure, the reactor looks just like a dust bin stuck in the boot. Why not?"

"It's incredibly dangerous! The Americans did a fusion bomb test back in the fifties on Bikini Atoll, an island in the Pacific. The blast was so powerful that afterward, there was no more Bikini Atoll."

George had a dreamy look on his face. "None at all?"

Hermione whacked him on the back of the head. "This is serious!"

"No, _I_ am Sirius," laughed Sirius. "Hermione, this is future technology. It's perfectly safe as long as you don't put anything explosive in it as fuel."

"A real time machine?" wondered Ron. "That would be so cool . . . when do we get to use it?"

"Probably never. The Ministry confiscated it immediately on some pretext of unpaid import duties or some such. I thought it particularly Muggle of them, considering who is running the show now. Of course, I neglected to mention the car's special capabilities," Sirius added with a grin. "They just think I stole it."

"And he uses Corvettes?" asked Harry.

"The scientist started off using DeLoreans, but he complained some film company wrecked the only ones left so he had to use stock automobiles after that. I got a good deal on the 'Vette because the manufacturer was having a rough stretch, trying to keep from going belly up. Besides, Merlin knows it was about time someone showed up here with cool wheels, and I was just the guy to do it. Good for picking up birds, yeah?"

"So you thought you could get away with picking up an underage girl from the future?" demanded Hermione. "What were you thinking?"

"We've all been waiting for the answer to that one," came a new voice from the doorway. Sirius' old mate Remus Lupin grabbed Harry in another hug. "Great to see you well, Harry. Tonks will be here as soon as she can waddle up the stairs; she's due any day now. She helped Ginny and Mrs. Weasley patch you up and wanted to make sure . . . you know . . ."

"That I didn't leak or something? I'm fine, Remus, I really am. It was only a flesh wound."

"You certainly didn't look fine yesterday." This new voice was full of anguish.

Harry gaped at the girl who had this time saved _his_ life, not that it deserved to be saved, not after what he had done to her. Her face was puffy and swollen and her hair swirled wildly around her head like tongues of flame. "Ginny . . ."

She shook her head. "I . . . can't talk to you right now, Harry. Maybe you'll do better with Hell Girl."

"Ginny, what . . ."

But Harry was unable to continue, for stepping out from behind Ginny was a girl he had never seen before but somehow felt he knew, but it was difficult to distinguish beyond the studs, spikes, chains and other hardware attached to the skimpy black leather wrap that covered little of her extremely well-proportioned body, and several magical tattoos romped playfully across her tanned flesh. Only her many piercings seemed to keep them tethered from disappearing completely. Her red hair was a darker shade than Ginny's and cropped almost to the scalp.

The girl stepped slowly toward him as he fixed his gaze to her face, not wanting his eyes to stray southward to anyplace they didn't belong.

Harry swallowed. "What – who are you?"

Edging ever closer, she gave a little smirk and began to chant:

"She calls me Hell, they call me Stacey,  
They call me Her, they call me Jane,  
That's not my name, that's not my name . . ."

Harry could not even blink. "So . . . what _is_ your name?"

That was apparently the right question, because she leaned into him and whispered:

"The answer my friend  
Is breaking in the wind . . ."

Several chuckles were heard around the room, but Harry felt a sudden pressure building in his abdomen . . . quite rapidly . . . and he could not hold it . . . a tremendously rasping release of gas emanated from his hind quarters.

"Merlin's chatterin' cheeks, Harry!" Fred exclaimed. "That was worse than Hagrid's skrewts!"

"Mum," cried George, "are you sure you got Harry's plumbing reconnected properly?"

But the girl took a long sniff and smiled.

"Hi, Harry."

Harry's eyes went wide. "Your name is Jamie Sue Potter."

"Thank you!" she squealed, kissing his cheek and embracing him with great vigor. Harry was sure he was being punctured by something she was wearing, but he was afraid to look.

Ron was confused. "Harry's married in the future?"

"I knew it," Ginny sobbed, turning to leave.

Releasing Jamie Sue, Harry rushed to his former girlfriend, turning her to him as he took her hand.

"Gin, she's not my wife. She's my twin sister."

Now it was Ginny's turn for wide-eyed surprise. "You . . . your sister?"

"I can't believe it," Sirius laughed. "_Flatulence Fidelius_ actually works!"

"I remember now," Remus said. "Lily developed that spell, worried about what would happen because of the prophecy. She wanted Jamie Sue's identity to be kept secret if You-Know-Who somehow got to Harry, and the normal Fidelius leaves a recognizable signature in the secret keeper if you know where to look. Lily's spell put the secret where no one would possibly think to look. One twin contained the secret and the other the trigger. James loved the idea and came up with a great tag line – "

"The toot shall set you free!" quoted Sirius, and everyone was chuckling by this time.

"Gred, do you feel the best lines are going to everyone but us?"

"I do, Forge. We should complain to our agent."

"Assuming we had an agent."

"Ah, yes, brother mine, therein may lie the problem . . ."

Remus spoke to Jamie Sue. "Just how did you travel to the future in the first place?"

"Gran always told me it was the Knight Bus," said Jamie Sue, finally able to speak normally. "Getting hit knocks you further than next week, by a long shot. It happened right after the Halloween attack . . . she said she was a bit disoriented trying to get me away from there and stepped off the curb just at the wrong moment."

"Mrs. Potter was a great lady, certainly. Is she still alive . . . then?"

"No, she had a bad sushi encounter a few years back, and I've lived on the streets ever since."

Harry had not released Ginny's hand. "Gin, I am so, so sorry. I was a prat. I was wrong. I was stupid. I should never have let you go."

Jamie Sue stepped over to them. "He's trying to tell you his life would suck without you."

Harry blinked momentarily at his sister. "Erm . . . I'm not sure that's exactly how I would put it, but yeah. Ginny, I love you. I guess I have for ages, I just didn't know what it was. I have no right to expect anything from you, but will you forgive me?"

Ginny's eyes were glistening. "Oh, Harry, there's nothing to forgive. I understood and I love you, too. It's always been you and always will be."

"She's trying to tell you that you're on her heart just like a tattoo," Jamie Sue added.

"I think I got it, sis," Harry said. "Do they really talk like that in the future?"

"No," she responded, "but they do write songs that way."

"Right," said Harry.

"Harry, I thought I lost you twice in two days," Ginny said, holding him tightly. "I don't want that to happen again."

"Twice?" Harry wondered. "Oh, you mean with Jamie Sue. Ginny, I love you so much. I never want to leave you again. Ever."

"Oh, Harry. I want to be with you always."

No more words were said as they crushed into a fierce embrace, lips locked together, losing themselves in each other for the first time since Harry's birthday.

There was a tremendous round of applause as quite an audience had gathered in the bedroom – the entire Weasley family (except for Percy), the Order of the Phoenix, a couple of goblins, and Ginny's Aunt Muriel, in whose house they were staying.

"It's a wonder Ginevra could attract anyone with those ankles," the elderly witch commented. "And she looks a fright. That boy must be a bit daft."

Suddenly aware of all the attention, the young couple became self-conscious. They tried to separate, discovering that they could not. Their lips had become stuck to each other's.

"Oh, look," Tonks giggled. "They've bonded!"

Ginny was not amused. "Fret, Georsh, if you dit a shtickin charm, you are gonna get hexed sho bat . . ."

"We didn't do it!" said George, panicking.

"Honest, Gin-gin," chorused Fred. "It wasn't us!"

Harry could think of many worse predicaments than being physically attached to his girlfriend, but it felt extremely awkward nonetheless.

There was the sound of someone coming through the Floo, and an elegant witch appeared before a fireplace that Harry had not noticed before.

"Why, hello," Mrs. Weasley greeted the new arrival. "Do we know you? You remind me of that German actress, Elke Sommer . . ."

"That would not be a coincidence, for she is my great-granddaughter, about twenty generations along."

"Then you must be . . ."

"Perenelle Flamel, at your service. You have probably heard of my husband, Nicolas."

"Of course! I presume that he resembles Peter Sellers," said Remus.

"You presume correctly, Mr. Lupin. How did you know? Did you ever meet?"

"No, just a Shot in the Dark . . ."

She smiled. "Albus always did say you were the clever one."

"What did he say about me?" inquired Sirius.

"Ah, young Sirius Black . . . there were many adjectives used in reference to you. I do not seem to recall 'clever' being one of them."

"Good on you, Sirius!" cheered the twins.

"For Merlin's sake," said Mrs. Weasley, "don't encourage them. Will Nicolas be joining you?"

"Alas, I cannot stay very long, for I have left him in a somewhat compromised position. It's just that the effects of the potion won't wear off for another couple of days."

"Is he alright then?"

"Oh, yes, quite. The Muggles have their little blue pill; we have our Elixir of Life."

"You don't mean . . ."

"Oh, yes," she giggled. "For some reason, just because we are over six hundred years old, people assume that we spend the entirety of our waking hours reading in the library . . . while it can be relaxing and educational, it is hardly an exciting way to live."

"Why is everyone staring at me?" said Hermione uncomfortably.

"Probably because they realize that, at your age, I was very much as you are, my child."

She turned to face Ginny and Harry. "And here you both are. You have no idea how long I have waited for this."

They had no idea what she meant, and recoiled slightly as she produced her wand.

"Do not be frightened, children, I will bring you no harm. I merely wish to check something, if I may?"

They nodded as best they could without bashing foreheads.

She waved her wand over the joined pair, muttering spells, and a soft milky white glow appeared.

"Yes, it is as I suspected."

"Ish it bat?" Ginny muttered worriedly.

"Oh, no! You two have indeed bonded, and not with just any bond. Even greater than the soul bond that requires unconditional love and eternal dedication between two individuals, you have achieved the Super Bond."

There was a collective gasp around the room.

Harry looked into Ginny's eyes to find that she seemed no more certain about this than he. "What duzzit mean?" he asked.

"It means that the force holding you together would support a fully grown cow, for one thing. Fortunately with the Super Bond, that usually dissipates after approximately twenty-four hours. Harry and Ginevra, you will find a great many benefits to your bond, including total intimacy – the sharing of thoughts, emotions, dreams, even your magical prowess will be as if you each had the sum of both your powers. If one of you has a particular talent, after the bond you both will have it."

"Wow," was all they could say.

"Harry," Hermione said excitedly, "you may be a phoenix animagus just like Ginny!"

"A phoenix?" said Perenelle. "Very impressive, Ginevra. I'm certain that Harry would be able to accomplish that as well."

Ron was thinking along more immediate practical lines. "What if they have to go to the loo?"

"When my Nicolas and I first bonded, it was hard for him," Perenelle giggled, "but we managed by sitting on each other's lap."

Harry and Ginny were now turning a similar shade of bright red.

"But they can't do that . . ."

"And why not? Did I not mention that the bond is legal proof of marriage? Oh, look, here's the Ministry owl now."

The window was opened and a small barn owl swooped in with a large parchment affixed to its leg. Harry removed it and read their new Certificate of Super Bonding and Magical Marriage.

"Ooh," observed Perenelle, "it even comes with a certificate worth five galleons at Wiz Bang's Bonding Emporium, All Accessories for the Eternally Bonded or Merely Infatuated. How lovely . . . their catalog is simply fascinating. And quite educational, I might add."

Harry and Ginny were stunned. This was too much to take in all at once.

Perenelle looked thoughtful for a moment. "There is one teensy caveat to the formation of this bond. You must consummate it physically within twelve hours, or the consequences will be severe. You will lose your magic completely."

There was another collective gasp, followed by hushed muttering.

"So – as for Harry's wand," Fred mused, "it's a classic case of use it or lose it . . ."

Several snorts were heard as Harry turned an even brighter red. Ginny started muttering something about what Fred should do with his own wand.

"Well, if there is nothing further," Perenelle said, "I must return to my Nicolas. We hate to start our day without sharing a 'Big O.'"

The occupants of the room just stared at her.

"A large glass of orange juice," she giggled. "Blessings to all of you! Bonjour!"

She stepped into the fireplace without uttering her destination and vanished in a flash of green flame.

"Gred, alchemy is looking pretty good as a fallback career, wouldn't you say?"

"I would at that, Forge. I also heard that our primary investor is now our brother-in-law, if my ears did not deceive me."

"Yes, we heard that as well," said Bill Weasley, eldest of Ginny's six brothers, who along with Charlie, the second eldest, was sidling up to the newly bonded couple with scowls on their faces. "We know that Ginny is quite capable of handling herself, Harry, but if you ever hurt her . . ."

"He knowsh what he't get, thang you vewy much," interrupted Ginny, "an' it's no conshern of yoursh."

Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived and defeater of dark wizards since a baby, cowered before the might of her protective siblings, and could only nod slightly and meekly respond, "What she shaid."

He was rescued by the rush of arms of the Weasley matriarch and cries of "My babies!"

"Mum!" "Mrs. Weashley!" Ginny and Harry gasped together, "can't breave!"

Congratulations were given all around, until one of the goblins approached, clearing his throat with great presentation.

"Monsieur and Madame Potter," he said in a deep-pitched heavy French accent that sounded as if his mouth was full of thick cream, "it gives me great pleazhoor to offer congratulations and best weeshes to you both on zee day of your bonding on behalf of Gringotts Bank. I am Roquehard and I am 'ere to serve you."

He paused at the sound of tittering behind him. "Why eez it zat zee English always laugh at my name? If I were not Roquehard it might be amusing to zay zat I was Roquehard, but I am Roquehard, so why eez zat funnee?"

Ginny and Harry had to bite each other's tongue to maintain a straight face.

"Oui. I am Chief Estate Administrator of Paris Gringotts, which 'as absorbed all Breetish operations as of zis midnight past."

Bill Weasley stepped up again. "Harry, you probably have not heard that yesterday we received intelligence that the Ministry of Magic, probably under You-Know-Who's orders, was going to assume control of Gringotts in Diagon Alley, and probably all branches throughout the country, effectively putting the entire wizarding economy under his control. Obviously, the Order could not allow that to happen, so we persuaded the goblins to move the entire bank out of Britain. It was quite an undertaking, but it was accomplished last night, and the Death Eaters who arrived early this morning were quite surprised to find nothing there except the empty lobby behind an "Out to Lunch" sign."

"How could they do that so easily?" asked Hermione in wonder.

"Zey always assume we goblins 'ave no magique of our own," groused Roquehard. "Zee details are unimportant, but all vaults and deposits are completely zafe."

"He must not know about that," speculated Jamie Sue.

Bill turned to his new sister-in-law. "Why do you say that?"

"I've had these dreams since I've come back," she answered, "and just before I woke this morning he was really angry with a woman called Bellatrix, that her vault had disappeared, along with the cup he gave her."

There was a collective gasp from Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Sish," Harry asked hesitantly, "do you have a shcar like thish?" indicating the famous lightning bolt shape on his forehead.

She looked at it in wonder, then nodded. She reached to her left side and pulled up the narrow band of leather that wrapped around her chest, focusing the attention of every single male in the room. There on her ribcage was a scar that was almost identical to Harry's, except for the Crup tattoo that kept trying to bite at it.

The teenagers all shared a look.

**#HARRY?**

Harry thought he heard his name, but could not tell which direction to look, until he felt Ginny grip his hand.

**#HARRY, CAN YOU HEAR ME?**

**#GINNY, IS THAT YOU?** He asked without speaking, looking deeply into her eyes. **#YOU SOUND SO FAR AWAY.**

**#YES, IT'S ME,** she said through their minds, smiling as best she could with her lips still locked to his. **#WE CAN REALLY TALK IN OUR HEADS!**

**#THIS IS AMAZING!**

**#HARRY, WHAT IS GOING ON?**

**#MY GUESS IS THAT JAMIE SUE WAS HIT WITH VOLDEMORT'S CURSE JUST LIKE I WAS, AND SHE HAS THE CONNECTION WITH HIM TOO. I HAVEN'T NOTICED IT SINCE MY CAPTURE, BUT I'M NOT SURE WHY. I PROBABLY SHOULDN'T TELL YOU THIS, BUT YOU NEED TO KNOW. VOLDEMORT CREATED THESE THINGS CALLED HORCRUXES THAT ACTUALLY CONTAIN PIECES OF HIS SOUL THAT HE SPLIT OFF HIS OWN BY MEANS OF EVIL DARK MAGIC THAT REQUIRES A MURDER. TOM'S DIARY WAS ONE OF THEM, AND TWO OTHERS HAVE BEEN DESTROYED. HE STILL HAS THREE LEFT – HIS PET SNAKE, SOMETHING WE BELIEVE MAY HAVE BELONGED TO RAVENCLAW, AND THIS CUP THAT WAS HUFFLEPUFF'S. I CAN'T KILL VOLDEMORT UNTIL WE DESTROY ALL THE SEPARATE PIECES OF HIS SOUL. THAT'S HOW HE SURVIVED GODRIC'S HOLLOW.**

Ginny looked at him with shining eyes. **#WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU KILL VOLDEMORT?**

**#GINNY, THE PROPHECY – IT WAS MADE TO DUMBLEDORE SO HE WAS ABLE TO TELL ME – IT SAYS THAT I'M THE ONE WHO HAS THE POWER TO VANQUISH HIM. IT'S EITHER HIM OR ME, GINNY. THAT'S WHY I WANTED TO PROTECT YOU. I SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU BEFORE ALL THIS . . .**

**#YES, YOU SHOULD, BUT IT DOESN'T CHANGE A THING, HARRY. I STILL LOVE YOU AND I WILL BE THERE FOR YOU.**

Ginny wrapped him in a tight embrace and kissed him soundly. It wasn't until they stopped for air that they noticed Hermione standing next to them in hysterics.

"Harry! Stop, please!"

He looked at the bushy-haired girl in bewilderment, and then to the others beyond, who were standing and staring in various degrees of shock, some with hands over their ears.

"Did . . . everywone hear . . . what I was shaying to Ginny?" he asked.

"They probably heard you in London, mate," said George.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" exclaimed Fred. No one bothered to chastise his language.

Bill shook his head. "This explains so much. Clicknack," he said to the second goblin, "can you see if this cup is in the Lestrange vault? Minerva," he said to the Hogwarts Transfiguration professor, whom Harry had not noticed before, "do you have any idea what Ravenclaw relic he may have used?"

The stern-looking witch tightened her already furrowed brow. "There were not many ever known to exist, and of course the best known is the Lost Diadem . . ."

"Is that like a tiara?" asked Jamie Sue.

"Why, yes," answered McGonagall, "but it has not been seen since her own lifetime."

"I had another dream about a tiara sitting on a bust in a room full of old junk."

Harry stiffened. "The Woom of Wequirement."

Hermione stared at him in astonishment. "It's at Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded. "Shaw it when I hid Shnape's potionsh book."

"This greatly simplifies our plan of action," said Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep soft voice. "We have been able to persuade the Queen to remove the control of Hogwarts from the Ministry of Magic and the Board of Governors. The administration and safety of the school will be solely the responsibility of Lord Gryffindor."

"Lort Gwyffindor?" asked Harry.

"Monsieur Potter," said Roquehard, "I must apologize, but you 'ave been impossible to contact since reaching zee age of majority, or you would 'ave been informed zen about your inheritance and titles. As you are in zee direct line of Godric Gryffindor and you have successfully wielded zee Sword of Gryffindor, you 'ave been granted zee title Lord Gryffindor along with all rights and priveleges, which includes zee ownership and oversight of Hogwarts School."

Harry was aghast. "I don't want it!"

Everyone who wasn't agape at the original pronouncement was now in shock at Harry's refusal.

"Zis is an honor, Monsieur Potter, and you would insult zee entire magical world if you reject it!"

"Harry," Bill warned, "acceptance of the title is critical to throwing You-Know-Who out of the school. He already has Death Eaters teaching there and the Governors are either supporters or fearful of dissent. You can make this a safe haven for the magical children of Britain."

Harry closed his eyes in thought for a moment, then opened them to look into Ginny's. He could only see love and the support he would need if he accepted the title.

"Pwofesher McGonagall," Harry asked, "wout you accept the poshishun of Headmasher?"

Her usual dour expression softened as she bowed. "Yes, Lord Gryffindor, I would be honored to accept the position of Headmaster."

"Just as well," Fred declared, "she was already the Head Masher."

Once the laughter subsided, the French goblin continued with his explanations.

"Oui, oui, Monsieur Potter, er . . . Lord Gryffindor. Now, according to my documents, you 'ave not been informed of the inheritance from your parents, no?"

"I have my vault," said Harry, confused.

"No, no, zat is just zee trust vault. Zee Potter family vault is one of the largest in Gringotts. You are a very wealthy man."

Both Harry and Ginny lost their eyebrows up somewhere on the tops of their heads.

"And you also inherit Potter Manor, which is of course magically 'idden on an island to zee west. You own zee island as well . . . I 'ave zee name of it 'ere somewhere . . ."

"Harry, you own your own island!" said Hermione. "I hope it's not one of those barren windswept crags, but still . . ."

"Ah, 'ere it is," exclaimed Roquehard. "It is Ireland."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "Surely you don't mean _the_ Ireland!"

"Zere is only zee one, as far as I know . . ."

"It is a bit complicated," interrupted Kingsley, "but as I understand it, there is a longstanding dispute that goes back centuries. Obviously, this has been kept highly confidential – the press would go wild if they had any inkling – but Harry's claim to the monarchy of Great Britain and Ireland – Muggle and Magical – is at least as great as the House of Windsor. Her Majesty and the Prime Minister are among the very few that are aware of the situation, and they would like to negotiate a peaceful resolution."

Harry attempted to pick his jaw up from the floor. "Err . . . of coursh. I don't want to be King or shometing . . ."

Kingsley smiled. "I told them you would say that, and they have created a special honorary title especially for you, that would remain in your house in perpetuity, privileges to be determined."

Roquehard added, "You would become zee first Duke of Ellington. Here is your new crest – I am not familiar with zee weapon depicted, but it looks most dangerous."

Hermione studied the coat of arms depicted on the parchment. "Harry, do you know how to play the saxophone?"

"Err . . . no . . ."

"Then, yes," Hermione declared with a smirk, "the Duke would be capable of inflicting great pain with this instrument."

"Vewy funny, Hermione," grumbled Harry, but he noticed that Ginny was shaking with restrained amusement. He saw her eyes sparkling at him and decided that he would take any amount of ribbing if it achieved that kind of reaction in his bondmate.

"Oui, oui. Sir, Lord, whatever, it 'as been discovered that you are also the first descendent of the great Merlin Ambrosius . . ."

"What?" Hermione interjected. "How is that even possible?"

"Weird are zee ways of wizard," huffed the French goblin. "If I stopped to wonder about every leetle idiozyncrasy zat crossed my desk, I would never get anything done, no? Oui. As zuch, you inherit zee largest vault in all of Gringotts world operations, his ancient 'ome of Avalon, zee ruins of his paddock at Stonehenge . . ."

"Stonehenge was _Merlin's paddock_?"

"Eet had to be somewhere, no? There eez also a citee een zee South Atlantic, several 'undred miles east of zee Falklands . . ."

"That's nothing but ocean!"

"I did say eet was _in_ the Atlantic, no? Unfortunately, zee citee was condemned ages ago due to flood damage. Zee name was Atlantis."

Everyone continued to be astounded as the goblin slowly worked down through a huge stack of parchment, naming Harry's inheritance from his parents or his other newly discovered ancestry.

"You 'ave a summer retreat in zee American Appalachian mountains, near a city called Asheville. Zee caretaker, a Chauncy Gardner, says Being There ees required to appreciate eet fully."

"Ish it big enough to bring the entire family?" asked Ginny excitedly.

"With two 'undred fifty rooms, I would zink zo – how big eez your family?"

Harry and Ginny both gawked at a proffered photograph of the estate, a tremendous French-styled grand chateau.

"Oui, zee grounds also contain greenhouses and a winery on eets eight thousand acres. However, zat is nothing compared to the zize of the estate in Australia . . ."

And so it went for most of two hours, properties on practically every continent and riches galore, and some very odd things besides, including a streetside advert in Liverpool and the tables in a pub called the Stinky Minky (at least that's what it sounded like to Harry) in Paris's Rue Mage.

"Ah, finally we come to zee last item. Eet ees a garden 'idden in a secluded valley of eastern Turkey. Zere are no structures, but several unique plant species exist only zere. Eet has been unkempt for many years, zo eet may need a fair bit of clean-up, no? Zee previous tenants were evicted for default of contract, something to do with a talking znake . . ."

o o o

"Mother, are you certain the Dark Lord approved these outfits?" It wasn't that Draco thought the dragon hide leather pants and jacket were horrible, they just seemed so . . . _Muggle_.

"Draco, you are aware – as are we all – that the Dark Lord is leaving absolutely nothing to chance. He is sure that Potter will attempt an infiltration at Hogwarts this term, and if successful, our Lord will attack the school with a ferocity never before seen. Pansy's young cousin can be tiresome, but he has brought some very good advice, you must admit. These outfits for the Inquisitorial Squad are far superior in active dueling than school robes. And you, as Head Boy at Hogwarts, must utilize every possible advantage from your position on the inside when you return tomorrow."

"It is true that the Carrows are ruthless, but they are hardly the brightest torches on the wall."

"Yes, Draco, and that is another reason that you should maintain the respect that your name and position deserves."

Draco looked down at the stylish black trousers and frowned at the belt and suspenders that came with them. "It will be hard to command respect when it looks like I'm afraid to lose my own pants."

"Don't be silly. It won't be noticed when you're wearing the jacket, which is charmed to maintain comfort in all weathers, and it looks quite handsome, in a rugged sort of way."

Draco sniffed at the jacket, inspecting the back's reflective logo saying INQ SQUAD. "Yes, like I care if I'm wearing a handsome Muggle Robert costume." He slipped it on.

"They are called 'bobbies', Draco, and you look quite the catch. Don't lose yourself to the lure of a manipulative female . . ."

"I suppose Potter will have some long lost totally hot twin sister known as the Girl Who Lived that I will fall in love with and be forced to keep her safe from the Dark Lord, is that it?"

Narcissa Malfoy lost her normally well-heeled composure. "Why on earth would you say such a thing?" she whispered in horror.

Draco's expression suddenly mirrored his mother's. "I have no idea."

o o o

**#YES, HARRY,YES!**

**#GINNY, OH GINNY!**

**#YEEEEEEES!**

"Hermione, there's got to be some kind of silencing spell for that, there just has to!"

"No, Ron, I've told you already, silencing spells only work on real sounds!"

"Sorry, mate," Fred said, "Occlumency is the only way to block it."

Aunt Muriel shuffled into the sitting room. "Did someone turn on the wireless?" she asked. "I thought I heard my favorite program – Witches of Wonderlust."

Ron ignored his elderly aunt. "Will you just _Obliviate_ me when it's over?"

Hermione sighed, "No, you just need to focus on something else, like getting into the castle tomorrow."

"Right," agreed Ron. "Do you really think You-Know-Who will attack? It would be the Mother of All Battles."

"No, it wouldn't. That title is already taken."

"Well, it will be big, if he really has this secret weapon everyone is afraid of. I'm glad we've got Charlie and his friends in the air, but I don't know if it will be enough if he brings wyverns and dementors and all those other dark creatures."

"It will be much easier to defend than to attack, that's why we need to get inside."

"That's the easy part," said Ron. "Harry and I sneak in during the welcoming feast under his cloak and take out the Carrows and neutralize Snape; everyone else rushes in before the Slytherins figure out what's going on."

"That's easy?" questioned Hermione.

"Yeah," he said, looking over at Jamie Sue, "all we need is a diversion . . ."

Meanwhile, Jamie Sue had moved further down the couch toward Charlie Weasley.

"So," she said, "I hear you ride dragons."

"Err . . . yeah," Charlie answered nervously, scooting away from her advance, "but only the kind with wings."

o


	4. What the World Needs Now

**What the World Needs Now**

o  
o  
o

Editor's note: Due to an unfortunate incident – namely, the annihilation of his home planet – the author is unable to present the narrative form of this portion of the chapter. From reviewing his notes, I have been able to make the following observations:

- One should be wary of odd-behaving wizards in garish yellow robes calling themselves "Dr. X" and offering for their daughter's ransom a "special weapon" that in reality is simply an erumpet horn in a used dust bin, even if one is a Dark Evil Overlord with a penchant for destruction.

- The Ministry of Magic should be more inquisitive concerning innocuous-looking items before releasing them as surplus, such as a used dust bin found in the back of a futuristic Muggle sports car.

- The appearance of two red-headed girls named Potter dressed in chains and skimpy black leather can provide an excellent diversion during the evening feast at Hogwarts School.

- Greasy-haired headmasters may not respond favorably to dismissal, especially at the order of a former student miscreant.

- Most students don't care.

- When presented with the sum total of their wrongdoings in the form of a single curse, Death Eaters posing as professors may have a tendency to spontaneously combust.

- Angry former headmasters should not perform "brain-dump legilimency" – fulfilling their former employer's last wishes – to former student miscreants in front of the entire Hogwarts student body, nor should they concern themselves with mutterings about budgies on trains.

- When the "eighth Horcrux" theory concerns one's sister, Super-bonded soulmates should not use **#THINK-SPEAK** to discuss said theory in the presence of said sister and the entire Hogwarts student body.

- If one's sister decides to fall into the arms of one's former enemy, one must accept that said former enemy will be a fixture at future family picnics.

- When giving inspirational speeches, Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter say almost exactly the same thing, except interchanging the words "me" for "us" and "Pure-blooded wizards" for "all living creatures."

- During speeches, they both inexplicably speak with a Texas accent.

- Dragons and wyverns create a lot of fire in aerial combat.

- Former-headmaster-shaped bats may regain their usefulness if a used dust bin needs to be carried away from a particular battle site.

- Hearing a bat flying at 296 feet altitude singing "The Things We Do For Love" is not a particularly pleasant experience.

- Frightening a bat at 296 feet altitude by flashing to his location as a pair of phoenixes - even with good intentions - may cause said bat to drop the used dust bin he is carrying.

- A phoenix flashing nearby will not cause an erumpet horn to explode.

- The impact from a fall of 296 feet will.

* * *

o

"So, Blaise, how's that gender elimination project coming along?"

"I've told you, Griff, it's gender _unification_, and early results were rather disappointing. Candidates went completely mad if the transition was applied after age eleven. We've since employed an age limit of seven years and that seemed to solve the problem. Now we are finally reaping some of the benefits – domestic crimes, pornography, prostitution and the like have all dropped dramatically."

"Smashing! What about procreation?"

"Yes, that little stumbling block has yet to be surmounted. Lack of interest, you see. . ."

"Presumably that will be solved before everyone dies off then?"

"We can only hope."

"Good luck with that. Ah, we've arrived," Griff said, opening a door. "Welcome to Future Anomaly Testing and Evaluation's operations center. Sovran here is one of our software debuggers. He's only been here a couple centuries, so still a bit of a novice, but he has great imagination. Sovran, this is Ambassador Blaise from Zabini Four in the Beta Carotene system."

"Is this the same Sovran who performed the soul merging on that young human couple? You're quite the celebrity in academic circles on Zabini Four. Your idea was the original inspiration behind gender unification."

Sovran bowed humbly. "Thank you, Ambassador, I had no idea. Did. . . anyone ever tell you –"

"That I look just like a super-tanned Peter Sellers in drag? All the time."

"I apologize for my forwardness, Ambassador. Supervisor Insdohr, might I have a word?"

"Certainly, my boy. And yes. . ." the supervisor paused, trying to decide on the correct pronoun, ". . .the ambassador has clearance."

"It's about Earth, sir. It's gone nova."

"Don't be ridiculous. Only stars go nova."

"That's what I thought, sir, but the data clearly . . ."

"There must be some mistake. Let's take a look."

An hour and mounds of data later, no mistake had been discovered. Supervisor Griff Insdohr had thought he'd seen everything, but this young debugger pushed the boundaries to the point where the unthinkable was almost a regular occurrence.

"Right, so tell me what you were doing when the nova occurred."

"There was a nuclear detonation in the close vicinity of two soul-bonded phoenix animagi."

"Blast! Of course! Why didn't you say so at the beginning and spare us the hour of data mashing? This couple – the same one from the soul merge before?"

"Yes, sir."

"We've had our discussion on unhealthy obsessions, Sovran."

"Right, sir. I'll turn in the counseling request forms this afternoon."

"Excellent. You may proceed with the reset code."

Sovran tapped two keys and pressed a red button. No one noticed the slight power surge that occurred at the same time.

Ambassador Blaise was astonished. "Forty-two is the reset code? I thought forty-two was –"

"The answer to life, the universe and everything? Answer me this, Blaise. Who arrived at that conclusion?"

The ambassor began to chuckle. "I suppose to a silicon-based artificial life form, the reset code _would_ equate to the meaning of life."

"Meanwhile," the supervisor smiled in return, "the rest of the living universe will continue to rely on us here at F.A.T.E. Humans make exceptionally good test subjects, you know. They are so attracted to calamity of all sorts."

"Such as that headmaster chappie – another notable failure?"

"An excellent example of how the 'greater good' is contorted by those considering themselves great and good. He did have the grace to admit his foibles in the end."

"Then, not a failure after all."

"Quite so."

o o o

Due to that inexplicable power surge, the earth's new axis was ever so subtly shifted from its previous position, yet undetectable by the best geophysicists and instruments in existence. However, one individual did notice _something_ was different.

Harry Potter was rudely awoken by a loud knocking close by his head.

"Get your lazy arse up, boy! You need to get moving on our breakfast!"

Harry swore under his breath, startled out of a fascinating dream by his uncle. He tried to maneuver his lanky teenage frame in his tiny cupboard under the stairs at Number Four Privet Drive, but it wasn't easy. In fact, Harry didn't recall it ever being _this_ tiny inside. He had to pull his feet out of a hole that had been cut into the wall at one end or he wouldn't have fit at all.

He knocked his skull twice before tumbling ungracefully out onto the hall floor and shuffling into the loo to freshen up, noticing the five o'clock shadow on his haggard face in the mirror. This seemed very odd, because he hadn't lived in his cupboard since he was eleven years old. Why was he sleeping there now? He couldn't remember why he had come back to Privet Drive, nor when his relatives had returned from hiding.

In the kitchen, Harry was still lost in thought as he pulled out the things he would need to fix the morning meal, but that all came to a screeching halt at the sound of someone behind him.

"Hem, hem."

He whirled to face a vision from one of his nightmares. A squat toad-faced woman wearing a pink cardigan and a polka-dot bow in her hair was smiling condescendingly at him.

"I'd like my eggs over easy," she simpered, "and you need to squeeze some more orange juice."

"Wha. . . what are _you_ doing here?"

"Have you forgotten, Harry? I am your mother."

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOO. . ."_

o  
o  
o


End file.
